


We Are Unashamed

by Cjblack



Category: We Are Animals (Short Film)
Genre: Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sexual Content, Violation of basic human rights, aids epidemic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cjblack/pseuds/Cjblack
Summary: From a young age, Nathan always had to hide his true feelings from the rest of the world. Sure, those little pink pills helped to suppress his increasing urges, but not without repercussions...When he's kidnapped by the leader of the Pink Panthers and declared a renegade by the government, Nathan finds that hiding his sexuality is no longer an option. And perhaps...perhaps he doesn't want to anymore.Then there's Peter McLuhan, the leader of the infamous gang, who's completely unashamed.





	1. Uncertain

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little blurb of a story I wrote after watching the Short Film "We Are Animals" on YouTube (Directed and Written by Dominic Haxton, and starring Daniel Landroche and Clint Napier).
> 
> ... like, twelve minutes long, but it's so fascinating and provocative. I've probably watched it a hundred times. It takes place in 1985 where the US government takes extreme measures to stop the AIDS epidemic... It is such a darkly intriguing storyline and I wished there was an entire series or full-length movie dedicated to it. Unfortunately we only get a tiny segment so I decided to let my muse take me away. This will likely be just a handful of chapters to satisfy said muse, and probably won’t be updated regularly.
> 
> Also, I don't think they ever mention one of the main character's names (we only see Peter's name on the medical chart briefly), so I named Nurse-Boy, Jeremy. 
> 
> Update: One kind reader discovered that his name is actually “Nathan”. For the sake of accuracy, I’ve decided to go back through and change Nurse-Boy’s name from Jeremy to Nathan. Feel free to let me know if I’ve missed any!
> 
> xx  
> CJ

* * *

No, he’d never broken the Sodomy Law, before.

The thought had always been there, held at bay, deep beneath the surface of his skin, suppressed by tiny little pink pills, a daunting desire he dared not pursue…

Nathan had been twelve when he first realized what he was. On the cusp of puberty, his friends growing up began to discuss girls more and more, pointing out all the prettiest ones in junior high, sneaking dirty magazines to their sleepovers…more and more Nathan began to notice with horror—he was more interested in sneaking peeks at his friends as they changed than any ample woman sprawled out in a centerfold.

He’d managed to keep his preferences hidden well into his late teens, until it became too much to handle. His mind and body cried out, screaming that he didn’t want to pretend anymore. He’d had a dream one night, sexual in nature, intense in his imagination, and he woke up gasping with arousal and after finding his release by his own hand, Nathan sobbed into his pillow, praying his parents wouldn’t hear.

He made an appointment at the clinic for that afternoon and took his pills religiously, hating them with a passion, consuming them loyally. In an effort to suppress his sexual desires, the _Celebron_ suppressed everything. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep. He was constantly drained, his mood subdued…the pills weren’t making him better; they were _killing_ him. Killing everything that made him Nathan Higgins.

Then, Peter McLuhan came into his life.

That had been yesterday morning.

Nathan rolled from his side, onto his back, wincing at the tenderness in his backside as he moved.

No, he’d never broken the Sodomy Law, before…last night.

He could feel his face heat up as memories from the night prior returned to him full force. His head turned carefully to the side and observed Peter’s handsome face, peaceful in his slumber. They’d fallen asleep outside after they’d…finished, with the other man spooned up behind him, one arm draped across his hip possessively.

Nathan swallowed heavily before reaching out a slightly shaky hand to brush back a lose curl of reddish hair from where it’d fallen over his forehead. At the gentle touch, Peter’s blue eyes blinked open, the charcoal liner smudged a bit from sweat and sleep.

Peter’s eyes pierced into his own so intensely that Nathan forgot how to breathe for a moment, his heart skipping over a few beats. He wanted to smile and he wanted to cry at the exact same time.

Peter McLuhan was enthralling to Nathan, attractive and fiercely passionate…the leader of the Pink Panthers. He was—he was a savage, dangerous, and Nathan shouldn’t want him this much. He should’ve been disgusted with what they’d done last night and yet…he wanted more. Nathan swallowed thickly again, the lump in his throat nearly painful now.

“Hmm, g’morning sunshine,” Peter murmured out in that teasing drawl of his.

“Good morning,” Nathan whispered back so quietly that he wasn’t sure if Peter could hear him, even inches away. He must’ve though, and Nathan could feel warm fingers trail across his stomach, circling his hip bone, before resting a scorching hot hand right above his stirring arousal.

“So _responsive_ without those damn pills, darling,” Peter muttered in his ear and then Nathan could feel a wicked tongue flick out to lave at the shell of his ear before nipping teasingly at the lobe. Nathan shuddered, and his body ached with a growing yearning.

Peter wasted no time crawling over and caging Nathan’s body with his equally nude one, his hard erection rubbing Nathan’s pleasurably as he ground his hips downward. He raised his head to meet Peter’s halfway, that mouth capturing his in a fierce kiss, lip ring adding a touch of coolness in their inferno. Nathan moaned loudly, his erection straining between their bodies and he opened his legs farther, letting the other man slide more easily in between and he bucked his hips up eagerly.

“You sore, baby?” Peter panted out against his mouth, the slight tang of his morning breath not even turning Jeremy off like it probably should have.

“A little,” he told him honestly, “But I don’t mind,” he added hurriedly when Peter began to pull off of him.

The Pink Panther leader ignored him though, in favor of slipping down Nathan’s lithe body and laying in the V of his legs on his stomach, where he nuzzled against the flushed arousal there, appreciatively.

“Such a pretty cock, sweetheart,” he said huskily before taking it in hand and engulfing him skillfully into the wet heat of his mouth. Nathan’s hands scrambled for purchase onto the ground, clenching into the soil and uprooting some grass between his fingers as he cried out loudly.

Peter’s blue eyes raised back up to gaze at him, his head bobbing lewdly between Nathan’s thighs. He pulled off briefly and his hands came up to guide Nathan’s legs over his shoulders, tugging the lower half of the trembling body closer to his chest. He resumed his administrations expertly, tongue sliding around the crown of his cock and teasing the slit before swallowing him down to the root to bury his nose in the trimmed thatch of light hair at the base.

Nathan’s hips began to buck on their own accord as Peter devoured him and he gasped in shocked pleasure at the slap to his backside he was given as reprimand, and then those long-fingers dug into the flesh of his hips to hold him still.

 _“S-So close…”_ he groaned out, the pooling heat in his groin coiling and twisting faster and faster and faster—and then it snapped like a rubber band, exploding along every synapse and nerve in Nathan’s body, up into his fingertips, down into his curling toes, and the noise he made was _truly_ animalistic as he came down that unyielding throat.

Peter pulled away, finally, wiping his glistening mouth with the back of his hand smugly. “You taste good,” he told Nathan, his voice a bit rough. Nathan blushed again, unused to such treatment, unaccustomed to such debauchery.

The blonde boy eyed Peter’s straining erection, thick and long, remembering how it felt inside him, breaching him for the very first time with only spit and the little remnants in a tube of lubricant Peter happened to have in his pocket, to ease the way. It had hurt, yes, and yet…it had been amazing.

What a shame it would have been, if the Department of Public Decency had succeeded in Peter’s Neutralization. He recalled the ferocity that Peter unleashed on the surgeon as he came in to perform his modification—Peter had swiped that scalpel up before Nathan had even noticed and performed a more horrific castration on the doctor before breaking himself and at least a dozen of his gang members out of the clinic.

Now…now, Nathan was glad he did. He reached out tentatively to grasp the impossibly hard cock and Peter let out a deep, feral growl at the action.

Nathan looked up at the man knelt beside him, feeling profoundly embarrassed at the extent of his naivety when it came to sex…especially between two males, which was utterly taboo.

“What can I do?” he asked nervously. Peter’s eyes were nearly black, his pupils dilated in arousal, and he grinned lecherously at Nathan, making him feel like this man was a predator and he was most definitely the prey, His fingers twitched around Peter for a split second before Nathan felt himself being flipped onto his belly and Peter once again braced himself over his body, this time that familiar piece of anatomy wedged between the crease of his cheeks.

Biting his lip, he craned his head over his shoulder; Peter’s hand slipped up to his throat possessively and began leaving a trail of love-bites along the hard line of Nathan’s jaw as it became exposed to him.

The older man let out a low hiss and thrust against him, the crevice of his butt growing wet with pre-ejaculate that did not belong to him, creating a slick passage for Peter to continue to rut against urgently. Nathan found himself moving with him, meeting him thrust for thrust, wriggling his backside eagerly, offering himself like a piece of meat, wantonly.

…he should’ve been so ashamed of his behavior…he couldn’t stop.

He didn’t _want_ to stop….

He wasn’t hard anymore, in fact, his flaccid member rubbing against ground was almost too much, too overly sensitive, but his mind was beyond blissed out with a new craving, enthusiastic in his want for Peter to find his own release, and the man did, grunting brokenly in crook of Nathan‘s neck. The hot fluid coming out in thick ropes along his crack and lower back.

Really, he shouldn’t like this so much…he shouldn’t relish in the depravity, he shouldn’t _love_ this so much…

He rested his cheek onto the cool grass, inhaling the earthy scent as Peter collapsed on top of him, his solid weight comforting and welcome against the autumn air.

Eventually, Peter rolled off of him, and then tugged Nathan around, scooting him closer so the young man could pillow his head on a sweaty shoulder.

“Those pills will fuckin’ ruin you, baby,” Peter told him seriously, disdain evident in his voice. Nathan nodded, his finger coming up to trace the black tattoo etched over the man’s heart.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he told him softly, “I had to force myself to eat every day. I wasn’t myself anymore. I hated them.”

Peter threaded his fingers into his dirty blonde hair and guided Nathan’s head to look at him, but he did so in a more gentle gesture than the wild gang leader had shown he was capable of thus far. He certainly was rough around the edges, that much Nathan could tell after just a day with this man.

“Those pills are poisonous, kid. The government calls us evil, they label us as sodomites and condemn us for it, but they’re the ones mutilating us and trying to medicate the fagginess right out of us. It don’t work like that, sweetie. It’s in our nature, it’s who we are.”

“It’s a sin,” Nathan whispered, his eyes flitting away, feeling the mortification wave over him once more. What was he doing here? Why was he letting this happen?

Peter sat up, ramrod straight, and Nathan practically fell across his lap at being jostled so abruptly. “You believe them? You believe everything they tell you?” he asked him curtly.

“I don’t _know!”_ Nathan cried out, feeling nervous at the severe look on Peter’s face. The harsh glint in his azure eyes softened a bit as he regarded Nathan silently for a moment, and he leaned forward to claim his mouth thoroughly, his teeth tugging punishingly at his bottom lip when he finally parted.

“Sweetheart, we’ve got work to do,” Peter informed him wryly.

**…**

“So what’s your name, sugar?” asked the thirty-something year old man who sidled up to Nathan where he sat by the edge of the water, scrubbing thoroughly at the shirt in his hands. Peter had brought him back to the campsite, a forty-minute walk from where they’d run off to (or rather, Nathan had run to, prompting Peter to chase after him like a cheetah hunting a gazelle), the night before.

Apparently they’d missed one hell of a bonfire, the massive party they threw to celebrate the previously detained Pink Panther members breaking out of the clinic. Nathan had apologized to Peter for causing him to miss the party, but the leader just smirked suggestively and pecked him on the corner of his mouth, and whispered seductively, ‘I had so much more fun with you though, baby,’ which caused Nathan to stutter and stammer like a flustered virgin (he was no longer).

Peter showed him the ropes, explaining how they all co-existed, before assigning Nathan to laundry duty which led him here, to the massive pile of clothing he was sorting through, washing and hanging on twine tied to trees to dry.

“Nathan,” Nathan offered, smiling at him a bit timidly. There were a lot of people here; he estimated maybe one-hundred, and Peter told him there were even more at different campsites throughout the state, and thousands more across the country.

“Hi Nathan, I’m Clyde,” the man told him cheerfully and Nathan paused his washing to shake the man’s hand with his own wet one, muttering a laughing apology for the soap. Clyde brushed it off, with ease, and worked beside him on the pile of laundry.

Nathan looked around, his eyes landing on Peter who was some ways away, deep in conversation with a dark-skinned man.

“How old are you, kid?”

“Nineteen.”

“Whew, practically jail-bate…Peter brought you here, did he? Where were you before?” Clyde asked conversationally.

“I worked at the clinic,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. Clyde eyed him knowingly.

“In denial then.”

Nathan grimaced slightly but couldn’t deny it. “No worries, kid. You’re not the first closeted twink to find refuge here and you won’t be the last,” the man continued smoothly, but his voice held no bite. “You’ll like it here. It’s not exactly paradise and they’ll catch ya if you’re not careful, so always travel in groups if we need supplies. But, you’ll get to be yourself here, and that’s worth everything.”

He clapped Nathan on the shoulder reassuringly before, rising to his feet and brushing his wet hands dry on his worn jeans.

“I’ve got to go help with dinner. There’s so many of us, so you can imagine that it takes a while,” he said, chuckling. “Come find me when it’s time to eat, kiddo. It’s pretty intimidating being the fresh meat around here, but I’m always glad to be a friendly face if you need one.”

Nathan smiled up at him, feeling a bit more at ease for the first time since he'd arrived at the camp. “Thanks, Clyde,” he told him sincerely.

After the older man walked away, Nathan’s attentions turned back onto Peter, who was now reading a notepad with a furrowed brow and standing beside a younger man likely in his early twenties, Nathan surmised. Peter had his elbow resting on the shorter man’s shoulder casually as he read over whatever was on the paper. An unpleasant feeling flitted through Nathan, clenching bitterly at his insides as he observed the pair.

Why was he jealous? He hardly knew Peter McLuhan. He didn’t have any claim on the man or a say in who he should or should not touch…

After several minutes, when Peter eventually sent the guy away, his eyes fell on Nathan who jumped slightly at being watched and returned to his scrubbing, face flushing at being caught. When the man finally reached the spot by the edge of the lake where Jeremy was knelt, Peter crouched down behind him and his very presence elicited a flutter of butterflies in Nathan's stomach.

Increasingly familiar lips found their way to his ear, completely ignoring the inquisitive looks being thrown their way. “I want you to join me in my tent tonight, you interested?”

Licking his lips in anticipation, Nathan nodded his head in response, hoping he wasn’t coming across as completely desperate. His body felt warm and eager, the effects of the _Celebron_ were wearing off rapidly, leaving him... _hornier_ than he ever thought possible. Nobody cared about his sexuality here...they were all the same in that aspect.

It was liberating…

…and Peter McLuhan was an intoxicating force of to be reckoned with, stronger than any meagre pink pill.

 

* * *

 


	2. Unbroken

* * *

 

The next day Nathan awoke, his body stiff and unused to sleeping on the hard ground. He was unused to having to sit hunched over the lake to wash clothing for a hundred people. He wasn’t complaining, exactly…only his body was. When he agreed to share Peter’s tent last night he’d assumed the man just wanted sex.

Instead, after dinner and after Clyde had introduced him to at least half of the camp, Nathan slipped into the teepee that belonged to the Pink Panther’s leader only to find him sitting hunched over the same notepad he had been engrossed in earlier, flipping through the lined, yellow pages and muttering to himself under his breath.

“Peter?” he called quietly, holding the draped opening to the side so he could peer in. Not looking at him at first, Peter merely gesticulated a lazy ‘come here’ motion over his shoulder and Nathan found himself situating himself quietly off to one side, unsure if his presence was a hindrance.

They sat in silence for several long minutes until finally Peter withdrew a dulled pencil from behind his ear, made a quick note of something and then tossed both pad and paper to the side. Peter yawned widely and then turned to face him, his eyes sharp.

“So, you’re name’s Nathan then, nurse-boy?” Nathan frowned at that, his skin prickling unpleasantly because he’d only just realized he’d been intimate with a man who didn’t even know his name. Had they really never bothered to introduce themselves?

In all honesty, he was just as guilty; the only reason Nathan had known Peter’s name was solely because he had read his medical chart at the clinic minutes before the break out.

Nathan nodded. “Yeah,” he said simply, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his skinny arms around them.

“Hm, Nathan what?”

Did it matter? It wasn’t as if he could ever go home now. He answered Peter anyway.

“Well, Nathan Higgins,” Peter began smoothly, “Why’d you start working for that despicable establishment? And don’t tell me it’s because you hate fags.” He smirked humorlessly, his eyes dark and brooding.

Nathan swallowed.

“I…I thought it’d help my treatment,” he said after a minute. He hugged his knees tighter to his chest and rested his chin on them, feeling self-conscious under such a formable person’s scrutiny. Peter cocked an eyebrow inquiringly, prompting him to elaborate. “…I figured if I’d seen it done enough times, it’d make me not want it anymore. They had signs and charts on the fences and walls, constantly reminding us that it…was bad. Dangerous.”

God Almighty, he felt like an idiot.

Peter let out a low chuckle that made Nathan want to put more distance between them. He held his ground.

“You figured if you’d seen a cock mutilated, you wouldn’t want one up your ass?“ he drawled scornfully.

Nathan felt contempt rise in his chest, and he wondered then what had made this man so fascinating to him. He wondered why he’d been so willing for a man who was a complete, utter, _asshole_.

“I hoped it would help! I thought it would _fix_ me!” He snapped defensively, feeling embarrassed and angry. Peter lunged onto his hands and knees like an animal prepared to attack, eyes flashing furiously.

“You don’t need to be fixed! You ain’t broken!” Peter said loudly and Nathan couldn’t help his flinch. Peter crawled over to him, eyes less angry as he knelt before him, taking Nathan’s chin of his knees and into thumb and forefinger so he couldn’t look away. The older man softened slightly. “You ain’t broken,” he repeated firmly, “You hear me?”

Nathan nodded his head the best he could with his chin being held captive, the tears prickling the back of his eyes because he truly wished he could agree with Peter.

“You can’t pray the gay away, baby. You can medicate your libido into a dormant _bitch_ but you ain’t ever gonna be able to change who you are deep down inside. They think it’s a choice: the Government, the DPD, Lyndon- _fucking_ -Larouche himself, but they’re ignorant shits, all of them. If they want to blame us, tell us we’re _animals_ , then so be it. They’re the broken ones, Nathan, not us.”

Nathan stared at Peter, his skin erupted into tiny goosebumps at the fierceness in his voice, at that stunning conviction which took Nathan’s breath away because he had never fought for something so hard in his lifetime…and Peter did it every day.

Fighting to live and living to fight.

It didn’t seem fair, the extent in which the United States Government went to, to drive Homosexuality into extinction. Castration of an entire population of gay men, mere paces away from being a genocide. But since the government wasn’t killing anyone, who was going to stop them?

_Peter._

_The Pink Panthers._

They weren’t here just to wreak havoc on their cities, painting graffiti on the walls or bashing in the windows of government official’s cars…they weren’t just screaming and ranting and raving without a cause. They were protesting their human right’s being stripped away. Their right to their own autonomy and anatomy.

Really, was there anything wrong with that?

Nathan couldn’t find anything.

“Say it,” Peter said, tongue darting out to fiddle with his lip ring as his eyes speared into Nathan’s very soul.

“Say what?” the blonde whispered in confusion.

“Say you’re not broken,” he stated seriously.

“You’re serious?”

“Say it. Say it now.” Nathan let out a long breath.

“I’m-I’m not broken.”

“Good…now say it again, and actually mean it this time.”

Nathan scowled slightly but he couldn’t dispute the claim. “I’m not broken.”

“Again, louder.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Say it again.” Nathan shook his head, a chuckle of incredulousness leaving his lips but he leaned forward, smiling a tiny bit now.

“I am not broken,” Peter was practically on top of him now, his mouth inches away for his own and he leaned in closer to Nathan like he was going in to steal a kiss but he stopped short. His breath puffed out a raspy laugh again Nathan.

“Scream it, sweetheart.”

A familiar warmth spread through Nathan at the suggestive tone, the husky voice of Peter reverberating inside of him and sending tingles down his spine.

“I am NOT broken!” he shouted out with a small laugh and, in a split second of boldness, he launched himself forward to capture Peter’s lips with his and wasted no time deepening it, his intentions clear.

He couldn’t stop smiling; the relief and freedom he found radiating down into his bones as he kissed Peter with everything he had. They were fumbling again, tugging at hair and clothes, rearranging limbs with some effort as they were both unwilling to separate their eager lips, but when they finally did, their mouths occupied along columns of throats instead, licking and sucking at the salty skin there, leaving lingering  marks as evidence of their passion.

It was only when they were both stark naked, clothing shed and ripped (which, in his right mind, Nathan would’ve declared a waste of perfectly good clothing), when Nathan found himself in that lap, this time fully prepared with a copious amount of _actual_ lubricant to ease the way, did Peter demand of him once more, “Say it again, Nathan…again…again.”

“I am _not_ broken…I’m not b-broken… _not broken…”_ he panted and gasped out, his body overwhelmingly full, the cock imbedded inside him hot and thick and positively throbbing, making him heady and dizzy with pleasure.

It didn’t hurt as much this time, with all the lube Peter used that Nathan had believed to be excessive at first, but after mere seconds of being thrust into enthusiastically, he soon realized that the smoothness combined with the filthily erotic squelching noises their joined bodies made were well worth it.

Nathan undulated his hips in a rocking motion, gravity so intense, making the cock inside him reach so deep that he swore he could feel it in in his throat. He moved like that for a few minutes, impaling himself onto Peter’s erection, reveling in the intense look in the other man’s eyes, the sliver of hunger that grew with the dilation of his eyes and every thrust up into Nathan’s body.

Nathan paused his movements, allowing Peter to do all the work temporarily, in favor of placing open-mouthed kisses along his neck and shoulders, determined to leave his own marks behind to match the scratch marks he’d left on Peter’s back the day before.

He wasn’t certain why he felt so possessive of Peter. He couldn’t stop it though; he couldn’t stop the animalistic bites and scratches his mouth and hands inflicted.

Peter didn’t complain either, not when his own hands and mouth were busy leaving similar traces behind on Nathan’s flesh; the fingertip-shaped bruises that would show up tomorrow on his waist, hips, and backside; marks that Peter would see tomorrow and eye them proudly, _greedily._

Peter’s hand eventually travelled to Nathan’s weeping erection and tugged it in time with their thrusts that were growing more and more erratic, uneven, but still managing to stimulate that little spot inside of him. Not even a minute had passed before Nathan was crying out, body shuddering in orgasm, clamping down uncontrollably around Peter, and Peter grunted out in aggressive satisfaction, hips snapping roughly as he filled Nathan with his release.

They fell back, Nathan landing on top of Peter, they’re bodies separating as they went. They laid together in the privacy of the tent, chests rising and falling rapidly from exertion —  _Peter’s_ tent that he invited Nathan to share — but for how much longer...?

Nathan shifted off him slightly, situating himself back into the crook of an arm while Peter’s other arm shot out to the side, fumbling for his pack of cigarettes. He yanked one out and placed it in between his teeth.

“Where the fuck is my lighter?” Peter muttered, trying to search for it one handed. Nathan sat up and crawled over Peter’s supine form, pushing aside the ratty blankets and one thick, plusher one, until he found a small yellow lighter the size of his thumb.

Peter sat up as Nathan straddled him once more, his cigarette hanging lazily between his lips, and lit the end of the cigarette for the Panther’s front-runner obediently. Peter smiled and took a puff, blowing out rings of smoke with his head turned to the side, away from Nathan’s face.

He took the cigarette out after a minute, offering it to Nathan questioningly. “You smoke, boy?” he asked curiously. Nathan shook his dirty blonde head of hair in response and Peter shrugged and returned it to his mouth once more.

They observed each other quietly for a while, Nathan still in his lap, Peter smoking, both completely nude and then Peter let out a low chuckle.

“You’re dripping on me,” he told him casually. Nathan’s brow creased in confusion and he looked down and around him and oh —

_Oh._

He was literally dripping. From his…his face lit up bright red and he scrambled off the other man, mumbling a string of embarrassed apologies because God, that was so _humiliating…_

Peter’s laugh got louder and he brushed him off, summoning Nathan back to him with an encouraging wave of his hand.

“You’re fine. I like it, turns me on...here, catch.”

Nathan bit his lip and caught the wash cloth that was tossed to him; he averted his eyes to the ground and cleaned himself off the best he could before he slinked back onto the blankets. He let out a content sigh when Peter put his burning cigarette out and rolled onto his side to spoon up against him.

They’d fallen asleep within minutes and now, Nathan woke up in the same position, wrapped in the lightly muscled arms of Peter McLuhan, pulled flush against his naked body.

“You usually sleep so late?” came a teasing drawl behind his head, breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. He turned his head slightly.

“What time is it?” he asked tiredly, his eyes still foggy from sleep.

“Nearly ten. We missed breakfast.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m not used to so much...fresh air,” he decided, rolling over onto his back when Peter pulled away and sat up. Peter smirked.

“Give me your hands boy…” he took Nathan’s hands, rubbing his thumbs across his hands and down to his fingertips. “You’ve got soft hands,” he stated, a knowing look in his eye that made Nathan balk a little. He tugged his hands back to his person, feeling defensive and more than a little self-conscious.

“So?”

“So, you ain’t use to physical labor, I’d wager. No need to get all sensitive about it. How old are you, Nathan?” he said breezily, reaching over to relight the cigarette from last. He took a long drag.

“Nineteen,” he said, his stomach sinking with the worry that Peter might think him too young and unexperienced and decide to send him away.

Another drag. Peter’s expression became thoughtful.

“What do your parents do?”

That was a new one.

“They own _Higgins’ Stop ‘n’ Shop._ It’s a supermarket down in...” he trailed off when Peter’s head cocked to the side, a sly grin growing on his face.

“I know where that is… I’m gonna go get you some clean clothes. I have errands to run and you’re coming with me,” he said, climbing to his feet and slipping on a pair of jeans. He slipped out of the tent and returned ten minutes later, slacks and a T-shirt in hand, having donned a shirt and black leather jacket of his own.

It was a far cry from the tribal paints, feathers, and animal pelts Peter had on two nights prior and Nathan wondered what their purpose had been. 

“These should fit alright,” he said. Nathan dressed obediently, the pants slightly loose around his slim waist but not enough to be an issue. The shirt did nothing to cover the smattering of hickeys along his neck and throat but he tried not to dwell on them.

He followed Nathan out of the tent, blinking hard to adjust to the rays of sunshine beating down on the camp. Peter led him to an old red pick-up, paint chipping and rims rusting. The door creaked as he opened it and Nathan climbed into the passenger’s side as Peter sat beside him in the driver’s seat.

Behind them, Clyde sat with the same young man that Nathan had found unsettling the night before, while he was on laundry duty.

He had curly brown hair, unruly in a charming sort of way, and his skin was tanned from being outdoors — opposite of Nathan’s fair complexion. Nathan was willing to bet the other boy’s hands were used to manual labor.

The strange ache in his gut returned.

“You both missed mornin’ meal,” Clyde said with a grin. He pulled out two granola bars out of his denim jacket pocket and leaned between the two front seats, handing one to Peter and one to Nathan. “You wear yourselves out last night?”

Nathan paused mid-tear of the wrapper, his mouth opening and closing in mortification. Peter snickered around a mouthful as he started up the truck. Its loud engine roared to life. 

“Mm, sure did,” he said after he swallowed. He reached over to rub Nathan’s inner thigh suggestively and Nathan found himself batting the hand away, affronted by his shamelessness in front of others.

Peter simply laughed in response but moved his hand back to the steering wheel. 

There was no road in sight and Nathan imagined it’d be many miles before they’d see one. They were too far away from any sort of civilization, too well hidden.

“Eric, did you bring the paints?” Peter asked, eyes moving to the review-mirror to look at the brunette— _Eric_ —in the back seat.

“Fuck yeah,” Eric said with a broad grin. Nathan polished off his breakfast and turned back to Peter.

“Is that what your 'errands' are? Vandalism?” He inquired, feeling slightly unsettled by the idea and he knew he probably sounded like a wet blanket from the way Peter scoffed at him.

“Partly. Got to get our message out there somehow...Don’t tell me you’re going to be a prude, now,” Peter stated roughly, making a sharp turn. Nathan glared heatedly at him.

“I’m sorry I’m not accustomed to breaking the law,” he snapped and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

“You mean aside from the _Sodomy_ Law, sweetheart?” Peter growled back. Nathan fumed, his hands clenching into fists because they weren’t alone here, and that was _private!_

 _“Oh, screw you!”_ Nathan spat furiously.

“Not the way it happened, baby,” Peter shot back, his eyes flickering onto Nathan, flashing dangerously as he sneered.

“Let me out!” Nathan shouted, his hand shooting out to grip the door handle and he threw it open so violently that Peter was forced to come to a screeching halt.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Peter yelled at him as Nathan unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed down from the pick-up, storming in the direction of God-knows-where because he was _done_. He was so done being used by this man, being embarrassed and objectified—he wanted to go _home._ He wanted to crawl into his own bed and pretend that Peter McLuhan never came into his life.

“Where you going, boy? You’ve been declared a _renegade_. The DPD will find you and they’ll castrate you and drug you until you’re numb and _dying!_ You're an accomplice to the Panthers; they'll throw you in jail for the rest of your life.  Is that what you want, Nathan?” he called out vehemently from somewhere behind him. The door slammed, indicating that the older man had jumped out of the vehicle.

“No! I want you to leave me _alone!”_ he snapped back, whirling around and he knew there were likely tears in his eyes by now, of frustration and helplessness.

Peter was closest to him, the old automobile further in the distance, and Eric and Clyde were hovering beside it, watching attentively but staying out of the conflict.

Peter looked feral, dangerous, like the animal hunting his prey again, a quality that had both aroused Nathan and terrified him down to his bones because really, this man was known for his violence, his wild protests and _ferocity_. Nathan was merely a grain of sand on a beach and Peter was the crashing waves _drowning_ him.

“Don’t do this, Nathan,” Peter called out, his voice not quite as harsh. He sounded almost…troubled. _Worried_ that Jeremy was going to get hurt. He paused, feeling jaded and overwhelmed. “You know what they’re capable of.”

“I do. But I also know what _you’re_ capable of, Peter,” Nathan informed him darkly but he’d stopped walking away and now Peter was back in front of him.

“You don’t know me, baby,” Peter told him harshly. “You know what the government tells you and you know what some fuckin’ medical chart tells you but you don’t know _me_.”

Nathan licked his lips uncertainly.

“I know you’re dangerous. And you’re breaking the law. And I don’t want to be a part of this, I _can’t_ be a part of this,” he whispered beseechingly and he could almost hear Peter’s previously spoken words hissed in his ear,  _‘You’re here, you’re queer; get used to it…’_

_How? How could he get use to living on the run? ...never having a home again, never feeling that security that came with it..._

Nathan stepped closer to him and his body’s response was immediate: the racing of his heart, the flutters of butterflies in his stomach, the tinge of fear crawling through his chest, the shiver of attraction down his spine, twisting like vines around his thighs and consuming him in heat.

What was it about Peter that enthralled him? Why wasn’t he running _away?_

“You’re already part of this. You’re a _fag_. The world _hates_ us; they want to eradicate us. Exterminate the so called ‘homosexual problem’…where will the stop? What happens when cutting off our dicks ain’t enough anymore, Nathan?

"You can turn a blind eye and hope that someday it’ll magically get better, or you can fight with us, fight _for_ us—show the world that they can’t fix us because we are not broken, and we are not ashamed of who we are! They can send their little soldiers, they can make millions of those Goddamned pills or castrate us, and they can try to Quarantine us away from society, but they will _never_ silence us.”

They stood in silence for several long beats, Nathan feeling like he was at war with himself, unsure what was the right thing to do at this point in his life, and he realized with dread…there wasn’t a right answer. The government was screwed up, the Panthers were—well, they were _animals_ , in many ways, and being caught with them could be perilous.

Yet, the very prospect of returning home, to his homophobic parents, his prejudiced town, suppressing everything he was in secret with _Celibron_ …that was almost too much to take. He couldn’t go back and he was _terrified_ to stay, but part of him still... _wanted_ to stay.

“You keep treating me like a—like a slut,” he muttered, eyes scanning the horizon, the sun high in the sky over the hills of browning grass. “I’m _not.”_

“I never said you were,” Peter responded, his forehead creasing in bewilderment.

“You keep talking about—in front of them!”

Peter regarded him coolly. “I’m not ashamed. You shouldn’t be, either.”

“I’m—it’s still private!”

“I’m a red-blooded American male,” Peter began bluntly, “I’m not embarrassed or shy and I ain’t gonna apologize for that. If you want someone tender and sweet, Clyde’s over that way and he’s pretty discreet with his sex-life. I’m not gonna change for anybody. I am who I am.”

Nathan bit his lip. “I don’t want—”

“Clyde? Well, fine. What’s your type? There’s a lot of men around here that’d gladly be what you want,” Peter said shortly, his hands shoved into his leather jacket and he turned around to walk back to the truck.

“You!” Nathan said, almost in surrender. “I want _you_ , but I don’t think I should!”  

Peter stopped and slowly glanced back to him.

“I don’t… I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore…” he continued, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. 

“...Like I said yesterday, Nathan, you and I’ve got some work to do. You gotta learn how to embrace that wild side of yours, boy. I guarantee you’ll love the freedom if you let go of all that hate and fear you’ve been brainwashed with.”

He extended his hand. Nathan moved to take it instinctively.

Peter tugged him forward, his arm sweeping around his waist and pulling him nearer, “You need to loosen up. I’m more than willing to help you,” he added in a low voice.

The tiniest of moans escaped Nathan’s lips before he could stop it. Peter grin was salacious, _knowing_.

“You wanna know what I think? I think that you _like_ the way I talk to you. I think you find the debauchery a turn-on. I also think that all this resistance from you is ‘cause you’re ashamed for craving what you think is wrong. What _they’ve_ told you is wrong.”

Nathan inhaled, breathing in the other man’s scent of earth and cigarette smoke and wondering why he was so drawn to it. “You think you’ve got me all figured out Peter, but you don’t really  _know_ _me_ , either, you know," he retorted, though his tone was more teasing than cross.

“Then I suppose I need to start getting to know you _better_ , Nathan Higgins.”

* * *

 


	3. Unlocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My ever-wandering muse brought me back to this story. I guess it needed a change from my usual fandoms!

* * *

Nathan looked up at the store front with abject horror settling into the very marrow of his bones. His head slowly turned to face the man who was, for the second time in two hours, the cause of his irritation.

 

“Please,” he began, his voice sounding weak to his own ears, “tell me this is some sick joke.”

 

“I don’t need your permission,” Peter told him stoically, eyes fixated straight ahead. “But your help would certainly make this easier.”

 

“How could you…?” Nathan whispered. The simple granola bar he’d eaten for breakfast was threatening to make a reappearance as his stomach twisted unpleasantly. “You can’t…please, don’t do this.”

 

“I have mouths to feed. Would you see them all starve?” said Peter, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“No,” Nathan protested bitterly, “But neither would I see my family’s livelihood threatened.”

 

“Tell me something, Nathan. Would they take you back? Right now, if you went home to your parents, would they accept you back with open arms?”

 

Nathan fell silent from his spot in the passenger’s side of the old truck. A hand placed itself on his shoulder from behind.

 

While Nathan didn’t have to turn to know it was Clyde offering him silent comfort, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he didn’t know these people well at all. They weren’t family, and although Clyde was kind and Peter was… _something,_ he couldn’t even call them his friends.

 

Nathan hated the question Peter asked and he hated the answer to it even more.

 

 _Would_ his parents take him back?

 

_No._

 

He wasn’t surprised, but the reality of it all smarted worse than a slap to the face. Nathan could remember being fifteen, sitting on the living room floor in front of the television with his father behind him in his old leather armchair, watching the nightly news. On behalf of the DPD, Secretary Lyndon Larouche’s face was plastered in black and white across the screen on a nightly basis, talking about the AIDS epidemic, the _Homosexual Problem..._

 

 _‘Fucking fags,’_ his father would say around his burning cigar, _‘I’ve been saying for the past two years that they need to all be castrated! Glad they’re finally doing it. Quarantine clearly isn’t stopping them from sodomizing each other and spreading their filthy diseases.”_

 

 _“They’re animals,”_ his mother would respond in agreement as she brought him his evening drink, _“They’re all going to burn in Hell for their sins.”_

 

Nathan had burned with shame back then. But now…now he burned with something else.

 

He unbuckled his seatbelt. “You’re lucky we’re not open on Sundays,” he said after a while, eyes flitting back to Peter. “There’s a door in back. Circle the car around. I can get us in without drawing attention.”

 

Peter’s blue eyes gleamed with pride. “You’re in?”

 

“Yeah,” Nathan said, his tongue darting out to moisten his dry lips, “I’m in.” Clyde patted his shoulder gratefully.

 

“Atta boy,” Peter said softly. He turned the truck around and drove to the backside of Higgin’s Supermarket, parking behind the dumpster.

 

Nathan’s stomach dropped as they approached the heavy door secured with a medal padlock.

 

“They changed the lock! My key won’t work anymore, Peter. It’s only been two days and they’ve already abandoned me...”

 

Biting his lip hard, Nathan kicked the door. A thick lump of misery rose in his throat and his eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

 

He wasn’t naïve; he had known this would happen. He had known his parents would disown him. Yet, the fact that they weren’t wasting any time in removing Nathan from their lives still managed to strike a sour note within him. It was like he only mattered to them when he was living his life to their standards. 

 

“You honestly think this is my first time feeding my family?” Peter scoffed at the padlock. “I always come prepared.”

 

Eric came up behind them carrying a large pair bolt cutters and passed them to Peter.

 

Nathan watched as the older man cut through the lock with relative ease. The padlock fell to floor with a loud _clang._ Peter kicked it out of the way with the side of his foot and shoved the door open to the back room.

 

“After you, sweetie,” Peter drawled, holding the door open for Nathan with an exaggerated bow.

 

“There are security cameras in the store, Peter…”

 

“So?”

 

“So, they’ll see our faces!”

 

“So?”

 

Nathan scowled at Peter.

 

“Who gives a flying fuck if we add a few more transgressions to our arrest-warrants? If we get caught, we’re already done for. At least we could find solace in the fact we are being imprisoned for some _actual_ crimes...over y’know, simply liking dick.”

 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Nathan muttered under his breath.

 

Clyde chuckled softly.

 

“What do we need?”

 

“The three of us,” Peter said, gesturing to himself, Clyde, and Eric, “will be going for canned goods. They’re heavy but have a longer shelf life. You go and clean out all the toiletries. Soaps, toilet paper, shit like that. What? Contrary to popular belief, we’re not actually animals.” Peter shoved several large burlap sacks into Nathan’s hands and shooed him away.

 

It was not the first time Nathan had been alone here but it was certainly the first time he’d been inside _without_ permission. The very atmosphere felt cold and foreboding, with all the lights off and the doors still bolted up front.

 

He was _robbing_ his family’s store.

 

Shaking his head in disbelief, Nathan made his way to the aisle with toiletries. He pulled bottle after bottle of hygiene products from shelves that he’d used to stock not too long ago.

 

This was the closest to ‘home’ he’d ever be again and although he prayed it was for the best, he couldn’t help the sadness that swept over him. His life as he knew it was over, never to be again. A new kind of life was woven before him, one that meant stealing and vandalizing and living on the run from a government that hated him simply because he liked men in the same way they _wanted_ him to like women.

 

It was a daunting future.

 

Bars of soap next. 

 

Only ten boxes of soap were stocked on the shelves. He’d have to check the stockroom before they left to see if he remembered the combination to get in. The old pickup would have room for boxes in the bed of the truck, but it had been a long time since he’d worked for his parents’ market and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to recall the code to get inside...assuming they hadn’t changed _that_ on him, as well.

 

“Don’t forget the Vaseline,” Peter said from behind him. Nathan threw five jars in the bag obediently.

 

“All of them. We go through a lot.”

 

“Are there a lot of injuries?” Nathan asked with concern. He remembered his mother putting Vaseline on his skinned knees and chapped lips but aside from that — _oh_. He could feel his cheeks burning as soon as he connected the dots.

 

Peter laughed and pressed himself behind him. His warm body and smoky scent settled against Nathan’s back and filled his nostrils pleasantly. It was strangely soothing.

 

“Never mind,” he croaked, and swept the rest of tubs into his bag. “I’m — I might be able to get us into the stockroom. It’s got a combination but if I can get us in, we could fill the truck’s bed up with boxes of all this stuff.”

 

Peter pressed a gentle kiss to his nape. It felt even more intimate than a kiss on the mouth and following the gesture, his skin broke out into goosebumps. A small gasp spilled from Nathan’s lips.

 

“Thank you for this,” Peter murmured into his ear and he sounded so sincere than Nathan almost turned around to make sure the person holding him was actually Peter.

 

Peter backed away on his own though, and reached down to sling two of the filled sacks over his shoulder casually. Without so much as another glance at Nathan, Peter disappeared into another aisle.

 

“Ten minutes until we need to haul ass!” Peter called out to them all. “I don’t want to risk staying much longer than that!”

 

Hooking two heavy bags over his own shoulder, Nathan slipped over towards the stockroom doors. It was secured with a keypad, six digits…what were they?

 

_Four…eight…seven…_

 

No.

 

_Four…eight…one…seven…_

 

…nine…four…

 

Four, nine?

 

Shit. Was it a four or five?

 

No, it was another four.

 

He closed his eyes, trying desperately to picture himself at seventeen, pressing in the combination, opening these same doors.

 

_Remember._

 

_He had to remember this._

 

 _People were counting on this stuff to_ _survive._

 

_This was…this was so much bigger than him._

 

_Four…eight…one…seven…_

 

_Four._

 

_It begins and ends with four._

 

_Four…eight…one…seven…nine…four._

 

Holding his breath, he entered the sequence into the keypad. The _click_ of a door unlocking sounded louder than usual in the mostly empty store. Heart leaping, Nathan heaved it open.

 

“Peter!” he said loudly. “I got it open!”

 

The man came around the corner, jogging to him swiftly. He skidded to a halt beside Nathan and looked in the room lined with boxes of supplies and food.

 

“Well I’ll be damned, Nurse Boy...” he cleared his throat. “Canned goods. Get as much as it as we can fit in the truck without weighing it down too much. Everything else is secondary. I’d rather us stink than starve. Shit, we’ll be set for months...Clyde...”

 

Clyde’s eyes were bright and he wrapped an arm around Peter in a quick side-hug.

 

“You can breathe easy, boss-man,” the older man murmured. “No one’s going hungry anytime soon.”

 

Peter grinned.

 

Ten minutes later, the truck was filled to the brim with boxes, stacked perfectly and precisely — Peter was meticulous in the way he wanted the vehicle packed. They couldn’t afford to waste even an inch of space, Peter had told them as he directed the placement of boxes.

 

The drive back to their campsite took the better part of an hour. This time, Clyde was driving and Eric was occupying the passenger’s side. Peter was situated between the door and a wall of cardboard boxes with Nathan laying on top of him. Their feet were scrunched up awkwardly, resting on the backside of Eric’s seat.

 

“What about the spray cans, Peter?” Eric asked, turning in his seat to look at them. “Are we not stopping?”

 

“No. I don’t want to risk it, today. Not with all this fucking gold in the back. We can get our message out another day.” Peter’s chest vibrated as he spoke. An arm looped around Nathan. It was such a casual maneuver but it sparked a thrill within Nathan followed by ambivalence.

 

The likelihood of them having any sort of relationship outside of sex was slim.

 

They were the absolute antithesis of one another; Peter was the leader of the Pink Panthers and Nathan was a virtual nobody, meek and cautious and introverted.

 

Peter was wild. Outspoken.  _Vicious,_ even.

 

Yet, despite it all, Nathan…

 

Nathan wanted him.

 

Besides, he didn’t want to think about the future. He had to focus on the present, because the future wasn’t promised, and even more uncertain when you were declared a renegade by the government.

 

**…**

 

Their return to the camp was intense.

 

The four of them were met with cheers and applause, hugs and claps on the back.

 

There were some tears of joy shed and one particularly ecstatic individual even lifted Nathan up and swung him around in circles.

 

It was a heroes’ welcome, because they brought back simple things like canned soup and bars of soap.

 

Items people took for granted.

 

Items _he_ used to take for granted.

 

Nathan could feel his heart break a little.

 

**…**

 

“What are you doing up here?”

 

Nathan glimpsed over his shoulder back at him before turning back to the scene down below. He had climbed up a hill and situated himself on the edge of a boulder watching the people sitting around the fire pit while eating their supper. Soups mostly, but Clyde had swiped a dozen bags of apples for dessert before they’d abandoned Nathan’s family’s supermarket.

 

“Just felt like sitting up here… It’s a nice view,” Nathan told him absently.

 

“I brought you some food.”

 

“Thanks,” he said, shooting the older man a quick smile. “But you should eat it. You’ve got to keep up your strength.”

 

“So I can fuck you good?” Peter quipped cheerfully, sitting down beside him. When Nathan glared at him he added, “Don’t give me that look. I was kidding…Kind of.”

 

Nathan scoffed but couldn’t stop the small smile from curling his lips upward.

 

“You are so — so _shameless_ ,” he huffed.

 

“Quite,” Peter retorted. “Seriously, kid. Eat. You’re skin and bones. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat more than that granola bar you had this morning.”

 

“I’ve never been a big eater,” Nathan told him honestly.

 

“Cheap date,” Peter quipped, biting into an apple. He chewed his mouthful somewhat loudly but he didn’t seem like the type of person to get hung up on proper eating etiquette.

 

“I wouldn’t know,” he told him with a shrug. “...My mom used to call me her ‘little bird’ because I always picked at —” his voice caught in his throat and he broke off in shock. He didn’t know why he was bringing up his mother. She wasn’t a perfect woman. He didn’t agree with many of her beliefs and he would never live up to her expectations...

 

Nevertheless, she was still his mom.

 

He swallowed the lump building in his throat and forced his tears prickling behind his eyes into submission. Crying would do nothing to change his situation.

 

“It’s okay to be upset,” Peter murmured. “She’s your mother, after all.”

 

Nodding tightly, Nathan brought his knees to his chest and hugged them.

 

“What about you?”

 

“Hm, what about me, sweetheart?” Peter asked, cocking his head to the side.

 

“How did your parents react to you being...you know.”

 

“Gay?” Peter offered after swallowing his last bite of able. He tossed the apple core and together they watched it tumble down the hill. “Well, my mom died when I was five. Dad began drinking himself stupid that same year and never stopped. When I was fifteen, he caught me screwing the boy down the street and beat me bloody. Kicked me out that same day. I dropped out of school and ended up living on the streets for a while. But I learned how to take care of myself. I learned how to fight.”

 

Nathan looked at him with horror. In the next second he found himself reaching out to place his hand on Peter’s knee. He gave it a sympathetic squeeze. “I…damn, Peter, I’m so sorry.”

 

Peter snorted. “Don’t be. Anyways, the old bastard died from liver failure two years later. I try to visit his grave on occasion. Once a year, if I can swing it.”

 

“Gosh. I don’t think I could ever bring myself to do that. Not after what he put you through,” Nathan told him honestly. Peter’s answering smirk was borderline malicious.

 

“It ain’t roses I’m leaving behind. Trust me on that.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I usually bring a friend with me.”

 

“I don’t get it?”

 

“I like to screw a guy against his headstone. For old time’s sake.”

 

A shocked laugh bubbled from his mouth before he could suppress it. Slapping a hand over his mouth, Nathan shot Peter an apologetic look but the man just laughed aloud. It was such a _nice_  sound.

 

Nathan pulled his hand away.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Maybe it’s petty, but it leaves me feeling better.” Nathan shook his hand, grinning in disbelief until a spoon bumped against his teeth. He jerked away.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“If you’re not going to eat, I’m going to have to feed you.” Peter told him firmly. “Open up.” He scooped up some more vegetables and broth onto the plastic spoon and brought it back to Nathan’s lips. Scowling, he snatched the spoon from the other man.

 

“I can feed myself, _thank you,”_ he told him indignantly.

 

“Good boy.”

 

“Don’t patronize me.”

 

Peter sighed. “You’re difficult, you know that?”

 

Nathan ducked his head toward the can of soup in his hand. He twirled a noodle around his spoon but let it slip back into the salty broth. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. I happen to love a challenge.” He leaned over and nipped at Nathan’s ear. Instantly he elicited a shiver from the blonde and he smirked appreciatively. “So sensitive, Nathan,” he whispered, his breath hot against his ear. “I want you in my tent tonight. You up for it?”

 

“Y-yeah,” Nathan managed, hands tightening around the can as his heart rate sped up.

 

“Mmm,” Peter hummed lowly, licking his lips. “You eat your soup and then meet me down below. I want to show you something.” With that he stood up and retreated down the hill, Nathan’s eyes never leaving his lightly muscled form as he took another bite of soup.

**…**

“Welcome to the Pit.”

 

“You guys dug this thing?” Nathan asked, bewildered by the large hole in the earth that had been covered by two massive (and likely stolen) barn doors.

 

“This is where we store the goods,” Peter told him. “Six feet deep. Felt like we were digging a mass grave. But we needed a way to protect our food from stray animals while we slept.”

 

“I’m impressed,” Nathan said as he watched several of the guys work together to bring down the boxes from the truck. 

 

“Thanks to you,” a redheaded young man said brightly. Jack, Nathan believed his name was.

 

“We’ll have enough food to last us a couple months. With winter coming, we like to be stocked up. It’s harder to get a lot of stuff once the snow starts falling.”

 

Oh, God...

 

_Winter._

 

“How do you guys…”

 

How could he finish that sentence?

 

“Survive?” A brunette asked for him with a knowing look on his face. Daniel.

 

“…Yeah,” he agreed, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

 

“We’ve got blankets and sleeping bags packed away, but our numbers have grown since last winter. We’ve got seventeen more —?”

 

“Eighteen,” Peter corrected from inside the Pit.

 

“Eighteen more bodies, now. We’ll start stocking up on blankets soon. Especially since we’re not hurting so badly for food and toiletries.”

 

Peter climbed up the ladder and dusted himself off.

 

“Think you can take over from here, Clyde?”

 

“Sure thing, boss-man. Go have a bath and get some rest.” He tossed a bar of soap at him followed by a tub of Vaseline. Peter caught them both with a grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

 

“Yes sir,” he saluted him with his free hand. To Nathan he added, "Join me? I feel like... _celebrating."_

* * *

 


End file.
